


Get some tail

by lurker



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, Merpeople
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:05:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurker/pseuds/lurker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ahaha, this is total crack, and the result of someone's long-ago semi-serious enquiry as to where mermen keep their dicks. I was curious, okay? I googled. And now there's this. On the other hand, who doesn't love a mermaid AU?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get some tail

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [GK kink meme](http://queeniegalore.livejournal.com/264028.html).

The day has warmed up by the time Ray wakes up after his nap, pillowed in the sand a well-considered distance from the waves. Unfortunately he hadn't put himself in a well-considered patch of shade, but he's baking now and there's no way he's getting back to sleep. Time to find something else to do.

"Ugh, can you believe this heat?" he bitches to Brad. "It's like the desert missed us and followed us home or some shit." He rolled over onto his elbow to continue holding forth, but he's alone with only his water bottle to declaim to.

He drinks from it instead, then slides on his pimping sunglasses. A quick scan of the beach shows Brad off teaching Nate to surf, or something, and since Ray has no desire to be some kind of cockblocking third wheel, there's only one person left to bother--if he were here.

Ray beams and goes off in search of Walt. Nothing like a good game of hide and seek.

* * *

Ray finds Walt 20 minutes down the beach--or rather, he spots Walt's head, out amongst the waves. Since there's no blood, Ray's pretty sure the rest of Walt's out there as well.

The thought gives him an idea, so he takes off his sunglasses and leaves them on the beach with his shirt. He ducks beneath the waves, hoping to remain unnoticed so he re-enact Jaws on an unsuspecting Walt. Visibility's pretty shit today; the waves are stirring up all kinds of crap and he can only see a few meters ahead, but he strikes out towards the place he saw Walt last and trusts to his Recon skills.

His confidence is rewarded when Ray sees the pale flash of Walt's skin through the water. Target acquired. He lunges forward. Walt's going to totally shit himself when Ray grabs his ankles--

\--except that Walt has no ankles, and Ray ends up with a fistful of scales from where he's grabbed Walt's, Walt's tail. He lets go and Walt darts off shorewards in a flash of silver, disappearing into the waves.

Ray stares after him for a moment, because, well, what the fuck was that? When Walt re-emerges in the shallows and starts wading out of the water, though, Ray goes after him.

"Jesus Christ, Walt! What the fuck? Cause, homes, I'm pretty sure you weren't half-fish when I fell asleep. Unless of course I'm still asleep which, well, would explain a lot really, but I have to admit I was kinda hoping for a dream about pussy instead. I mean, getting some tail rocks, but I think in my subconscious you've gone about it the wrong way, know what I mean?"

Walt scowls at him. "And I think all that Ripped Fuel has ripped your brain, you whiskey tango retard. Come on, a tail? Don't get your dreams misfiled under R for Reality, Person."

Ray stares at Walt. "Nice try, dipshit, but you're more retarded than Encino Man if you think 'It was all just a dream' bullshit is gonna work, being as how we're not living in Dallas. I am the king of bullshit, and am therefore immune from all attempts. Also that's possibly the lamest argument I've heard since I told my Mom I was only reading those magazines for the articles."

"Ray, I have legs. Legs. See?"

Ray looks down. It's clear to see that Walt does, in fact, have legs rather than a tail. His legs aren't the only things it's clear to see, actually, since Walt's apparently into skinny-dipping. Ray jerks his gaze back up to Walt's face and hopes his trunks are loose enough to hide the fact that he's half-hard. Thank God the water's on the cold side; his dick has only just crawled out from his body, where it had retreated to the instant the water had lapped up past his groin.

Walt coughs, and Ray realises that the silence has been going on for a while now as he's been staring into Walt's eyes. Wow. Smooth, Person, he thinks, and looks away, down at his hands.

They're covered in smooth silvery scales where he grabbed Walt's tail: and ha! Ray totally has proof now.

He grins back up at Walt. "So, these scales on my hand: are they imaginary too?"

Ray's waiting for Walt to start laughing with him, but Walt's face is pale. "You can't tell anyone, Person."

"Well, I don't know. I could probably name you after me. 'Mermaidus Personus.' Wait, that sounds like it should be some kind of fungus. Mermaidus Rayus instead? Nah, space-age fabric. Being a legendary explorer is harder than it looks."

"I'm serious, Ray! You can't discover me! I don't want to wind up in some kind of carnival freakshow!"

"I think they put everyone on Ripley's Believe It Or Not now," says Ray. It's hard to believe this is actually happening, but Walt's seriousness is starting to get to him. He widens his eyes and makes his Very Serious face to lighten things up.

"Ray!" Walt grabs his arm, and Ray abruptly realises that this is actually happening to him and probably does require some kind of response on his part.

"It's okay, Walt. I won't tell," he says. Walt's looking at him like he can't quite trust him, and Ray gropes for the right words to reassure him. "Come on, Walt. You know I've got your back."

It's such a cliché that it really shouldn't work, but maybe it's something in his face that convinces Walt. He's not sure, because he's got no idea what expression he's making any more. He knows he's not making the Very Serious face anymore, but he's not quite sure what's replaced it, has no idea what his face is saying to Walt.

Evidently it's enough, though, because Walt relaxes, and Ray hasn't realised how tense he's been as well until then. It wasn't nice, having Walt not trust him.

"You realise I'm trusting you with my family as well," Walt says.

"Then I've got their backs too," says Ray. "I seem to have a lot of backs all of a sudden. Maybe I should start a collection."

Walt does laugh this time, and Ray grins in relief.

"So, can I--can I see it properly?" Walt hesitates. "Come on, you know I'll just talk at you until you show me. What kind of explorer do you think I am?"

"All right, all right!" says Walt, and sits down in the sand. Ray watches in fascination as scales ripple out across Walt's skin and his legs merge together. His feet twist outward and get lost into his tail fins, and Ray thought he remembered how weird it all was but he was completely wrong. This is screwby.

Ray kneels down to get a better look. If he were being polite, he'd keep his hands to himself, but it's not every day your friends start sprouting tails. He traces one hand across Walt's hip where the scales join with skin. Walt's skin is warmer than the scales, which have an oddly pleasant bumpy texture.

"Homes, that is seriously disgusting, you know that? Your legs just, like, fused together. One minute there's a gap between your legs and now it's all filled in and smoothed out and shit. Which, speaking of smoothed out--where the fuck is your dick? Did your dick get smoothed out as well? Should we start calling you Ken?"

"No," says Walt. His voice sound rough. "I have, uh, it's like dolphins, you know."

"Uh, no, because I'm not a twelve-year-old girl and so do not mainline the Discovery channel hoping they'll show another documentary about dolphins. Now Encino Man, I've always secretly suspected-"

"Shut up, Ray," Walt interrupts. "God, you're such a dick."

"At least I have one. Ken."

"The point is, you want to be as streamlined as possible so you can swim better, so, like dolphins do, we have this, um, kind of pouch. Everything gets kept inside. Uh, usually." Ray's about to make some kind of joke about the size of Walt's dick and how little drag it would cause anyway, but he looks down and, okay, Walt's cock is actually pretty respectable unhidden. Probably it would cause drag.

"It's, uh, not exactly streamlined now," Ray points out. The way Walt's cock stands out from his body is kind of dirty. Walt Disney would have a heart attack.

"No," Walt agrees. He's blushing--blushing!--but his eyes are challenging. "But then again, neither are you."

Ray looks down reflexively. He's hard all the way now and his trunks are doing nothing to hide it. Ray supposes he should have known better than to think he'd be able to hide it from a fellow Recon Marine.

"If you're an explorer, Ray, then why don't you do some more exploring?" Walt says, and he reaches down to grab Ray's hand where it's still stroking along his hip and then holy fuck his hand is buried in Walt's kind-of-pouch and wrapped around the base of his cock, and he can't decide whether to freak out from the weirdness or shoot his load from the hotness.

He looks up at Walt. Walt looks like he feels: terrified and turned on. Time to get things moving, Ray thinks, and kisses Walt, hurried and messy, focusing on the familiar look of his hair and his jaw and the line of his neck. Walt's making small desperate noises in his throat by the time he gets to Walt's ear, and Ray, well, he's making sounds to match.

"Walt," Ray says (not a whine, he totally denies any allegations along those lines). "Walt, I would really like to fuck you now, but I gotta confess that this it my first time with a tail and I'm not quite sure how to keep going."

"Like this," Walt whispers in his ear, and then Walt's on top of him and his cock is sliding into Walt's pouch alongside his cock. Jesus, Ray thinks. Walt's body is smooth and slick around him, holding him tight. He can't quite decide if it counts as fucking or frottage or both, but it's definitely one of the kinkiest things he's ever done, even if you include Thailand in the equation. And, okay, this totally isn't how he imagined this going down (his thoughts get diverted for a moment on other meanings of going down), but he's flexible and totally willing to expand his definition of getting some tail.

Walt's cock is hot against his, his body snug around Ray's cock. There's no way he's gonna last.

"Walt-" he starts, whispering in his ear, but Walt's groaning his name as he comes. Ray takes that as permission and comes too, hard.

* * *

There are scales stuck all over the insides of his legs.

"Sorry about that," said Walt. "They just kind of flake off a lot if I haven't shifted forms for a while."

"You mean your tail sulks if you don't pay it enough attention? Sheds shiny silver tears of woe?"

"My cocks sulks when I don't pay it enough attention," Walt counters.

"Walt! You gotta take better care of yourself," Ray says. "Now, I have no idea if my cock sulks--"

"Yeah, I heard how badly you treat it--never paying attention to what it wants, to its hopes and dreams--"

"I pay plenty of attention to my cock! Unlike you, apparently."

"Yeah? Maybe you should show me how it's done."

In the end, they're a little delayed getting back.

* * *

The shadows have started to lengthen across the parking lot by the time Ray and Walt make it back to where they started at the beginning of the day. Nate and Brad are waiting for them by Brad's car, slouched against the sides.

"Well kids, how was your day at the beach?" Brad asks as they draw closer. He's smirking slightly, so Ray assumes his day went according to plan. Well, the smirk and the hickey he can just see on Nate's neck, peeking out from behind the towel he's draped across his shoulders.

"I had fun," offers Walt.

Ray scratches his foot against his ankle where a stray scale has escaped his notice. "We should do it again," he says. In the corner of his eye he sees Walt smile.


End file.
